I'll Follow You
by Dog in the Manger
Summary: Stephanie knew that he'd loved her. Always had. So it wasn't a question whether she'd follow him, because her heart already did.


_A/N: The standard disclaimer applies to this story. I'm only borrowing the characters that belong to JE._

_**I'm not a big fan of warnings, ergo I'm putting them at the bottom of the page, leaving it up to you to decide whether you want to be warned. If you do, scroll down to the end of the story, before reading any further.**_

_ Highlands girl, thank you so much for looking this over and encouraging me to post. I value your opinion and appreciate your help more than words can say. Merciki, I don't know how you put up with the countless rough drafts I send your way, but it means the world to me that you do._

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**I'LL FOLLOW YOU  
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The locks on her door tumbled, when Stephanie stumbled into her kitchen, half-awake, and reached for the coffee that had just finished brewing. She rubbed the back of her neck, stretched and, without turning around, yelled out, "Hey, Ranger."

She could feel his gaze on her, taking in the somewhat disheveled appearance: hair, tousled from sleep, body, wrapped in a plush but slightly rumpled robe, and hand, gripping a steaming mug of coffee.

"Babe."

The endearment that routinely rolled off the tongue of her mentor, best friend, and lover, ran the gamut of meanings from encouragement to dismay, but at that moment it was a question why he'd found her wandering around her apartment instead of getting ready for the morning run.

She glanced at the dark street outside her window, plonked her mug on the counter, and turned around, sending him her best 'Burg glare. "No one in their right mind should be out of bed at five in the morning. Much less going for a run." She couldn't tear her eyes off his body, clad in black sweats and cross trainers in deference to chilly November weather, adding in her head, '_And no one should make plain workout clothes look this good either_.'

Resting his back against the counter, he crossed his right ankle over his left and gave her a wolf grin in a silent dare.

"Yeah, so not happening," she said with a huff, flustered by his reading of her inner thoughts. Pulling on the sash on her robe to make sure it was still securely wrapped around her, she tried swishing by him in the narrow space. "I'll be ready in five."

Before she knew it, she felt herself being hauled to a warm and hard chest. Ranger nuzzled her hair, and her body melted into his, before her brain had a chance to catch up. His warm breath ticked her ear, when she heard his whisper, "Remember our deal? Boston Cream after the run. Get moving!" and then he released her with a light swat to her butt.

An hour and a half later, she burst through the door to her apartment with her personal Batman in tow. The irritation from having to rise before dawn long replaced with excitement from running her first eight-minute mile.

"Dibs on the shower!" she yelled over her shoulder, a carefree laugh bubbling up without restraint.

Leaning on the door frame, he watched her bounce around her space, toeing off her sneakers. He caught the jacket, she sent flying in the general direction of the couch, and his eyes twinkled with mirth, making him look younger and somehow softer, content to play along with her antics, without having to worry about tarnishing his bad ass image.

He was going to tease her about being good shower, as she headed for the door to her bedroom, but she whipped about, her eyes flashing with anger. "Don't you dare, Ricardo Carlos Mañoso! I know what you're thinking. But don't you dare start something you're not going to finish!"

He cocked his eyebrow at her. "Looking a little scary there, Babe."

"It's so unfair. I'm gross and sweaty, and you…" Her voice cracked, before she could finish her thought. Choking back the lump in her throat, she fled to her bedroom.

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"Feeling better?" Ranger asked from the couch, thumbing through pages of the Wall Street Journal, when she returned to the living room half an hour later. She flopped next to him and nodded silently, reaching for the Tasty Pastry bag, sitting in the middle of her coffee table.

He looked up from the paper, folded it in half, and set it aside, watching her lick the chocolate icing off her fingers. "What are your plans for today?"

"I'm gonna check with Connie to see if she has anything new for me. And then I have a few errands to run."

Appearing lost in thought, he caught an errant lock of her hair between his fingers and, after twisting it a few times, pushed it away from her face. "Call Tank, Babe. He could use your help with the paperwork."

"Okay," she said softly, averting her eyes, as she always did whenever she agreed to do as she was asked, but didn't intend to follow through.

Dropping a light kiss to the top of her head, Ranger rose from the couch without pushing her further. "Gotta go. Later, Babe."

When the lock on the door clicked back into place, she walked up to her window, hoping to see a familiar black Porsche pull out of the lot. When she didn't, a traitorous tear rolled down her cheek. With a deep sigh she returned to her routine, getting ready to face the day.

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She pulled up to the Bond's office shortly after nine in her hunk of junk du jour. As usual, Connie was busy filing her blood-red nails, and it was still too early for Lula to be around.

When Stephanie walked inside, Connie put the nail file down, squinting at her friend. "How're you doing, Steph?"

Stephanie knew she didn't do a bang up job covering the dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep, getting up at an ungodly hour for her run with Ranger, and she needed new clothes, since the things she had on hung loose on her newly trim body. Hesitant to explain it to Connie, she rushed to answer, "I'm good," eyeing a stack of folders at the corner of Connie's desk. "Any of those for me?"

"No, Steph, sorry. These are for RangeMan." Connie looked down at her nails again. "I'll call you as soon as get something."

A black SUV pulled into the spot across from the door to the office. Stephanie's breath caught, before the driver's side door opened and Tank angled out from behind the wheel of the truck. She let the air from her lungs with a whoosh and said, "Thanks, Con. I'll see ya."

Bumping into him on her way out, she looked up with a forced smile. "Looking good, Big Guy."

Taking in her haggard appearance, Tank contemplated whether the time had come to take the matters into his own hands, but knew in his heart that he had to wait for her to approach him. Almost eighteen months ago, a piece of him shattered, when he had buried his best friend, and now, watching the broken woman Ranger loved more than life itself slowly fading away, he was at a loss for what to do.

"Hey, Little Girl." Settling his large hand over her shoulder to thwart her attempt to take off on sight, he asked, "You comin' by later?"

Looking out to the parking lot, she shook her head and gave his hand a light squeeze, before saying quietly, "I don't think so. Not today." Closing her eyes for a moment, she added, "Tell the guys… tell them I said _'hello'_."

"Why don't you tell them yourself?"

Looking back at him, she whispered, "I can't."

Bolting to her car, she wrenched the door open and, as soon as the engine caught, took off like a bat out of hell. Aimlessly, she drove where the road took her, becoming aware of her surroundings only when she saw the billboard for the Jenkinson's Boardwalk in Point Pleasant. Heaving a deep sigh, she parked her car and got out. After crossing the road, she walked between the arcades and down the steps to the beach.

The icy crust, caked on the sand, crinkled under her boots, as she made her way to the water. Staring into the distance, where the ocean met the horizon, she shivered, the bone-chilling wind getting underneath her clothes. She bent down to pick up a shell fragment, dipping her fingers into the frigid water, and felt a stab of burning pain that broke through the numbness that overtook her after she'd left the Bonds office. Straightening up, she glanced at the deserted beach around her, squared her shoulders and started walking up the shore, leaving shallow footprints in the sand.

"What're you doing here, Babe?" A familiar voice sounded in her ear, and she felt his arm wrap around her shoulders, like a warm blanket.

"Does it matter?" she asked softly.

"Yes."

"A man of few words, as always, I see." She stopped walking and turned to him with a glare. "I was going for a quiet stroll."

He cocked his eyebrow at her. "Steph, you chase skips around town or run to Pino's for a sub, but you don't stroll."

"Maybe now I do."

"On the beach? In the middle of November?"

"I was in the mood, okay? Sue me."

"You're mad at me."

"Thanks for pointing that out, Mr. Obvious. What are you doing here anyway? Don't you have any other place to be?" She waved her hand in the air. "The world to save?"

"No." He paused, his deep brown eyes boring into hers. "I'm exactly where I have to be. Saving the world. Mine."

"Oh, no!" She jabbed a stiff finger into his chest, her voice rising. "I sure as hell am not the world, and most definitely not yours. You promised to come back to me, before you left, remember? And you broke that promise! So you don't get to swoop in and save me." Her eyes filled with tears, and she added barely above a whisper. "Especially when I don't want to be saved."

"Babe. You don't mean that."

"You bet your ass, I do!" she yelled, clenching her fists at her sides and trying to pull away to hide from his piercing gaze, but he didn't let her.

"You're hurting. And you won't let me take the pain away."

"Because I don't need you to. Ranger, it's all I have left… of you." Tears were running down her face unchecked, and he crushed her to him, stroking her back, as she sobbed into his chest. When she had no more tears left, she looked up at him and sniffled. "I miss you, Ranger. I miss you so much. Every time I see a black truck, I keep hoping that it's you behind the wheel, but it never is…"

"Steph, you have to stop doing this to yourself. It's been eighteen months."

"Seventeen months, two weeks and three days. Not that I'm counting or anything."

"It's time to move on, Babe."

"No. And since you're a figment of my imagination, you can't make me."

"True." He sighed. "For what it's worth, I tried. But it wasn't in the cards. Not this time."

Wordlessly, she turned away from him and started walking back to the boardwalk. Losing her footing between the dunes, she collapsed onto the sand, and, for once, he wasn't there to catch her. Subdued by the bone-deep weariness, she didn't have it in her to get back up; so she scooted back against the sandy slope and pulled her knees to her chest.

"I wanted to come back for our someday, Babe," he said, lying down next to her. "More than anything."

"I know." She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. "I'm tired, Ranger. Hold me?"

"Always." Wrapping his arms around her, he murmured into her hair, "I love you, Babe. I'm yours. I can give you forever."

Before succumbing to the dreamless sleep she'd longed-for, she whispered back, "Forever without the real you in it, isn't worth having at all."

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**Warnings: Character Death. Tissues and waterproof mascara might be necessary.**

This story was inspired by the song _I'll follow you into the dark_ by Death Cab for Cutie and the short story _The Little Match Girl_ by Danish poet and author Hans Christian Andersen.


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